A Cullen By Any Other Name
by Potterhead1Billion
Summary: Harry stumbles into a supposedly-dead friend at Sluggy's Party, and in front of an unnerved Severus Snape, no less.


The weighty smell of alcohol and incense settled heavily on Harry's robes. Suddenly, it seemed to be a a hundred degrees Celsius. Gagging from the smell, Harry flailed through the endless layers of gossamer silk, breathing deeply as he cleared the curtain that was likely sprayed with some form of aphrodisiac.

"Hello, Harry," a dreamy voice said somewhere next to his left elbow.

Harry turned around to see Luna gazing at him, her protuberant eyes unnaturally large on her heart-shaped face. "Have you tried the dragon balls yet?"

Harry grimaced, recalling his unfortunate run-in with Snape and McLaggen earlier. "Er — no. Have you?"

Smiling serenely, Luna leaned forward conspiratorially. "No. And I would advise doing so; I spotted Professor Snape earlier, and he was muttering something awful about Cormac McLaggen and dragon balls."

Harry choked back the laugh that threatened to burst. "Thanks, Luna. I'll keep that in mind."

As he spoke, his eyes drifted to the center of the room, where Slughorn was showing off a man — some famous celebrity, Harry supposed — to a stock-still Severus Snape. He had never seen the dour professor so shocked. Lips pursed, Snape gazed unsettlingly at Slughorn's friend, identical flames of color flushing his too-pale cheeks. And Slughorn's friend? Harry was sure he had seen him somewhere before. That bronze quiff, the unnaturally lean profile…

 _A flash of green light. A high, unnatural voice. "Kill the spare."_

Swallowing his discomfort, Harry raced forward, muttering a hasty apology to the faintly startled Luna, and pushed through the throng that threatened to consume him whole.

What he saw made him stop dead.

His stunned eyes traced the gleaming badge that sat proudly atop the man's chest, some sort of family crest of high upbringing.

 _"Hey, listen…about the badges. I've asked them not to wear them."_

Slughorn said something to elicit a laugh from his friend, one that carried easily through the crowd. It spoke of better times, of the man's gratitude and humility.

 _"Go on, take it! You saved me, take it!"_

Standing threateningly opposite of the man, Snape sneered something that made the man's features smooth out, become unreadable and deadly serious. Harry distinctly remembered getting this kind of reaction from him, or the very image of this man the stranger was impersonating…

 _"I realize I never really thanked you properly for tipping me off about those dragons."_

Harry recalled asking Cho to the Yule Ball, a lifetime ago… _"Who are you going with?" "Oh, Cedric. Cedric Diggory."_ The dread that pooled in Harry's stomach then did not reappear now; nonetheless, apprehension and excitement urged Harry forward to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Severus, you've never heard a finer story, I'm sure!" Slughorn was jovially proclaiming, waving a pudgy finger at the unmoved Potions master.

"Absolutely not," Snape affirmed stiffly, his dark eyes scrutinizing the Cedric lookalike with something akin to detached interest. "How do you fare in your new life, Mister Cullen?"

 _Cullen._ Ice formed in Harry's stomach. How dare this _Cullen_ imposter disrespect Cedric's name! Was this some form of a sick joke? Perhaps Slughorn was Confounded by Snape, and the greasy git was carrying out his master's orders. All the same, it was odd that they would choose a room full of witnesses, and the fact that Snape was getting introduced to Cullen did not fit into the picture… Despite his heavy bias against Snape, Harry didn't need an impartial third-party to tell him his theory was nowhere near the realm of plausible.

Scowling at his runaway imagination, Harry scooted forward and into the conversation. "Cedric? Is that you?"

Cullen gaped at Harry. It was then, at this close distance, that Harry realized that there were small differences between Cedric and Cullen — this one had perfectly symmetrical features, bizarrely immaculate, with not even a hair out of place. His eyes were a warm bronze instead of the stormy grey Harry had known, and his skin was a few shades paler, even surpassing Snape's pallor. His, however, glowed healthily with youth and virile energy, while Snape's sallow skin only served as a reminder of how worn and haggard he constantly appeared. Harry would have pitied the man if he didn't hate him so much.

"Harry?" He grinned. Harry remembered once hating that perfect smile, the one that captured the girl he was attracted to the most. But that didn't matter anymore.

"You — you're dead." Somehow, Harry had managed to find his voice. He turned to a bemused Slughorn and Snape. "Is this some bloody joke?" he demanded heatedly.

Slughorn looked throughly taken aback with the incensed response. "Nothing of the sort, my boy!" he denied.

Snape, on the other hand, sneered lightly. "Even now, you forget your manners," he sneered. "You meet a presumably dead classmate, and greeting you impart on him is, 'You're dead.' I could teach a poltergeist with twice the respect you have, Mister Potter."

Despite the situation, Harry flushed; being compared to Peeves was never pleasant. "Alright, then," he acquiesced. He barely took note of the surprise that flitted across the professor's face before it smoothed out into the blank mask that it always was. "Cedric, I thought you were dead. Peter Pettigrew, he killed you!"

Cedric smiled apologetically. "Harry, I thought you knew."

Harry felt a twinge of annoyance. Even here, at a party, he was told that he'd been kept in the dark. "Knew what?"

Cedric leveled his serious gaze on Harry, his bronze eyes unnatural and forbidding. "I'm a vampire."

"A _vampire_?" Harry didn't bother maintaining his composure this time. "What happened?"

Cedric grimaced. "Pettigrew cast the Killing Curse, but Carlisle managed to get me out of the way. He moved too quickly for you to see — for anyone to see. Vampires, they move unbelievably fast. Carlisle shoved me to the ground and bit me."

"He — he _bit_ you? What — " Harry managed, his head spinning dizzyingly.

"I was then transformed into a vampire. The process was painful, unbelievably so…" A haunted look came over Cedric's too-perfect face, his lips pursed in concentration as he relived what was undoubtedly a very unsettling experience. "I was taken into the vampire family, the Cullens." He suddenly quirked into a smile. "I go by Edward Cullen now."

Harry was at a loss for words; he was simply unable to formulate his own opinion.

It was then when Slughorn decided to intervene. "Mister Cullen here decided to pay Hogwarts a visit," he beamed. "I was more than obliged to welcome home a Triwizard Champion."

At the mention of the tournament, Harry submerged from his sea of thought. "Why didn't you come see me directly after you were turned into a vampire? Your dad, your girlfriend — the whole bloody school was grieving for you!"

Cedric looked pained. "I — I couldn't, Harry. I've started a new life; it wouldn't be right to remind them of what they've lost. It's only right for them to grieve and move on."

A wave of anger swept over Harry, threatened to drown him in a murderous rage.

"But," Cedric interjected quickly, upon seeing Harry's face, "I did visit my family, told them I was alright. You see, Harry — I'm now immortal."

The angry tirade Harry had mentally prepared died on his lips. He started stupidly at Cedric as he continued to explain.

"We are eternally young and beautiful, but at a cost; we lose our loved ones. If I had come back to live a life with Cho, do you think she'd be satisfied, growing old as I remain young and healthy? It wouldn't be right; it'd be _weird._ I never get close to mortals as a result."

"So how do you explain coming here, to a _party_ , to remain hidden?" Harry demanded.

Cedric grinned, and it was then Harry began to see the seventeen-year old boy Hogwarts had lost. "I have a glamour; funny how you're the only one who can see it, huh? I mean, aside from the professors; exceptions can be made, after all. Dumbledore cast it himself. Probably didn't want to hide the truth from you."

"He's hid it long enough," Harry muttered, feeling mutinous with the betrayal of is trust. He would've kept quiet about Cedric's reincarnation as a vampire…of course Dumbledore would want to play on his heartstrings by keeping him in the dark.

"It's not his fault, though," Cedric insisted. Harry glanced up, startled. "He believes that heartbreak makes the heart stronger."

"Oh, yeah?" Harry snarled. At this point, he was ready to storm up to the headmaster's office and smash all his antiques and strange knick-knacks, all for the sake of feeling something. Earlier, he felt what was building up to an apoplectic rage, but now he felt…nothing. Empty. Strangely devoid of anything, much like Snape's curiously expressionless face.

"You will do no such thing!" Cedric spoke sharply.

Harry stared at him. "What such thing?"

"You _won't_ break into Professor Dumbledore's office and break all his stuff," Cedric chided sternly. "He's been doing stuff for the greater good, Harry. You wouldn't know what he's been through."

Harry gaped wordlessly. "You can read my thoughts?"

Next to Slughorn, Snape snorted, an uncharacteristic display of emotion from an otherwise solid rock wall. "Anyone can read your thoughts, Potter, you're an open book. No wonder the Dark Lord finds you an easy target."

Slughorn stiffened at this last comment, opening his mouth to close the conversation (for it was treading murky waters at this point), but Cedric got there first.

"Yes, Harry. I can read your thoughts. My own power, I guess, as a vampire. We each have something that distinguishes us. For instance, my step-sister Alice can see glimpses of the future, only glimpses, much like a Seer but with prophecies. Jasper has incredible strength."

"Do you think, as a vampire, Potter could possibly get the ability to shield his mind?" Snape sneered.

Defiance flared in Harry as he spun around to confront the Potions master. "Perhaps your ability is to keep a leash on your tongue, especially to my mother!"

Everything froze. Two hectic spots of color blossomed on Snape's cheeks; he looked practically livid. For a moment, Harry feared he'd take every point under the sun, assign a lifetime's worth of detention, for surely that was exactly what his comment warranted… Harry bit the inside of his cheek, already berating himself for an insult so low, so horridly hypocritical… He hadn't meant to take a look at Snape's memory, really, but the curiosity was too great… Even then, his father had been such a jerk; Harry never meant to emulate him in that respect…

Opposite of him, Cedric stiffened, undoubtedly picking up Snape's thoughts and Harry's frantic inner monologue. Slughorn was the only one who seemed unaffected, but all the same, he seemed to recognize a storm brewing when he saw one.

"Er, maybe we should get something to eat," Cedric suggested tentatively, in an admirable attempt to break the ice. "And discuss the vampire alliance?"

Slughorn spluttered. "My dear boy, I had never thought we would involve _politics_ , of all things, on this fine night!"

Snape's lip curled into a derisive sneer for what was, by Harry's count, the fifth time in the last five minutes; all the same, he was grateful Snape had not lashed out with his fury at this most inopportune time. "It is always a time for politics, Horace, especially given the mess Potter's put us in. We need all the leverage we can get, and with vampires on the Dark Lord's side, I'm afraid we stand little to no chance of winning this war."

"The mess _I've_ put us in?" Harry repeated incredulously. He had considered acting reticent for the remainder of the conversation, after his disastrous comment, but Snape's accusation was too much to let slide. "You're a Death Eater!"

Snape sneered once more, barely moving his lips as he spoke. "Mister Potter, I highly advise you to keep your inordinately large trap shut. That's the second time in the last thirty seconds you've drawn my ire, and I would have to hate to put Gryffindor last in the running for the House Cup." All the same, he looked decidedly troubled by Harry's comment, as if remembering something unpleasant, and uncharacteristically paled in a show of fear that was most definitely not him.

Recognizing a lost cause when he saw one, Harry shut his mouth and glanced expectantly at Cedric.

"Er, Professor Snape," Cedric started, "I talked to Carlisle about Dumbledore's proposal, and he laid out the ramifications of reaching out to other vampires. We're a dangerous breed, sir, and it's only Carlisle's sheer willpower to avoid human blood that's keep us friendly with mortals. Others are not so morally — ah, ambitious." His lips twitched into a nervous smile.

Snape had returned to his composed mask. "I see," he remarked measuredly. "Is there no way to make your friends see reason?" His lips had curled with the word _friends_ , as if it physically pained him to force such an utterance.

"It's highly unlikely, but we can try to talk to them, give them enough incentive to be on our side."

"What incentive do we have to offer that will appeal more than the Dark Lord's?" Snape asked darkly.

When he was met with no response, Snape nodded curtly. "I shall pass it onto the headmaster. Have a nice evening, Cullen, Horace." Without further ado, he swept around, his robes billowing in his wake, and abruptly made for a dark corner. Harry could make out the platinum blond of Malfoy's hair, his gaunt face prominent among the crowd of people milling about. He was kept in tow of Mr. Filch, who looked out of place in his ragged robes and sneer that could rival even Snape's. Harry watched Snape drag a protesting Malfoy out into the corridor.

"Excuse me," Harry said to Cedric and Slughorn, and stumbled off in the general direction Snape and Malfoy had disappeared off to.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Luna said dreamily. "Have you spoken to Cedric yet?" she nodded to where Harry had just left.

Harry gaped. He had a feeling he looked like this a lot, especially with Luna. "You can _see_ him?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I imagine others see someone else completely different, although whom, I can't imagine." Luna smiled. "Have you spoken to Ginny yet?"

"Er — no." Harry was suddenly filled with an intense longing to see her, a welcome diversion to this "mess", as Snape had so aptly put, he found himself in. His wish was granted when, moments later, he caught sight of flaming red hair.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny grinned. For a moment, Harry forgot to breathe; she looked stunning in a simple gold dress that put off her warm brown eyes quite nicely. Standing just merely over five feet, Ginny was tiny, even compared to Harry, who was considered small for his age. Her size belied her true nature, though, especially in a fight — Harry allowed himself a moment to feel proud for his best friend's younger sister (after all, that's all she was too him, _nothing more_ ) before she broke his reverie by offering a frothing cup of golden liquid. "Fancy a butterbeer?"

Harry almost took it. Almost. He suddenly recalled Snape and Malfoy, whispering plans to overthrow Dumbledore out in the corridor. Or that's what they were doing. Supposedly. "I'll be back, Ginny!" he called over his shoulder.

He hightailed it out of there, barely registering Ginny's huff of exasperation (that was an eerie imitation of Hermione) and Luna's unnerving stare.

And for a moment, Harry forgot about Cedric.


End file.
